In my mind, I'm putting all the things that remind me of you in a box to leave in the back shelf of my unconscious until these things have changed from objects of dispair, to ones I can look back on and smile about rather than frown - maybe not now, but somewhere, sometime, somehow hopefully soon:
a box of Cheerios because they were your favourite,
Colgate toothpaste because that's what you tasted like,
the notes you left in my locker when you used to pass by every morning,
a cantaloupe because "soft fruits help you kiss better,"
almonds, and nuts in general, because you always talked about bulking diets and were a little nuts to be honest,
a pair of Sperry's because you wore them with everything,
a movie ticket because that was our first "date," and you worked at the local theatre,
a hockey stick because you loved the sport with all your heart,
a CD with a single track on it: Let Her Go by Passenger because you told me that was your favourite song and I hope it's the one you listen to when thinking about me,
and last but certainly not least,
a vile of the scent you wore every single day that I could never manage to decipher even up to now.
- g.d.
Letting go of your velvet touch seems to be harder than I thought, but to remain holding onto nothing would be a knife to my seemingly already-weakened heart. Goodbye, Love.
